


A night to remember

by Levynn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Dalish Inquisitor, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Poisoning, Possible Character Death, Stabbing, Swearing, well one (1 !!) f word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levynn/pseuds/Levynn
Summary: "The candle snuffed out in it’s own pooling wax with a whisper of a hiss. The balcony door cracked open with the slightest creek. Soft leather boots padded across the room, under the drape of the dancing shadows, cast by the dying hearthfire. A polished blade, coated with a thin layer of malignant oil glinted in the moonlight. The lethal intent wasn’t betrayed by the trecherous flash but the soft cold breeze, slipping into the room through the left open door."So i dearly missed that there was no assassination attempt on the Inquisitor's life at Skyhold. So this little short story is just that.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A night to remember

**Author's Note:**

> So this piece was originally wasn't intended to be published, i only wrote it for my own amusement. I'm not a writer in any regard, except that i wrote this down some time ago and now i cleaned it up a bit, after a [dear friend](https://echigo825.tumblr.com/) made me to post the raw version on Tumblr and here we are a few days later, to upload it to yet an other public site.  
> Disclaimer: i do not have a beta reader and english is not my first language so i apologize in advance for any mistakes and typoos, but i hope you can enjoy it regardless!  
> I have no idea when this would take place in the story but it could be inserted like.. anywhere really.

It was a slow, quiet evening at Skyhold. The only unusual aspect might be the fact that Soren didn’t felt like he needed to escape reality so desperately which was a constant state of being for him for so long now. But tonight his mind was at relative ease and he felt like he could get at least a couple of hours of peaceful rest.

The Inquisitor was leaning on the parapet of the balcony, belonging to his quarters. He was wearing a pair of soft cotton pants that ended just under his knee and a sleeveless, loose, excuse of a shirt letting the cold, evening air place a chilling kiss upon his skin. He still wasn’t fond of the idea of being surrounded by ice but he was getting used to it and almost learned to appreciate the harsh beauty of the snow covered mountainrange and the icy ravine down below. He nearly admitted to himself that it actually looks breathtaking when the setting sun is just at the right angle and it paints the frozen valley in an almost otherwordly purplish, red-golden hue. It looks like a daydream from a fairy-tale. But it is cold. _It is oh so cold all the time._ A grim reminder that saps out the beauty from the scene.

He inhaled the crisp air deeply, kept it in his lungs for a few seconds, then released it slowly. He doesn’t like the cold.

Soren retreated into the inviting heat of his room, closing the door behind himself. The fire in the hearth was crackling happily, radiating comforting warmth.

He glanced at his worktable, taking in the stack of documents, waiting for his signature, being it in either approval or denial. Besides that lay a leather bound folder helding field reports that were deemed that it needed to be seen by the Inquisitor himself. Beside the candleholder, a half finished bottle of wine sat at the corner of the table, no glass in sight. He was drinking straight from the bottle. Why bother? No one sees him here anyway and those who do, not going to judge him for it. _Not for this, at least._

His gaze turned away from the desk, up to the gallery above his bed. In his mind he was climbing up the ladder, lifting up the tarp and opening the box on the far side, carefully taking out the contents and then.. He shook his head. _No. Not today._ Today is a good day; he feels fine, maybe even sleep on his own a bit. He went over to the sofa to his left. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he lighted up the candles on the small table, picked up the book that rested there, open, but turned face down. He dropped himself on the cushiony piece of furniture comfortably, to read a little before going to sleep but he didn't even turned the third page, when the book gently flopped against his chest and he was sleeping soundly.

The candle snuffed out in it’s own pooling wax with a whisper of a hiss. The balcony door cracked open with the slightest creek. Soft leather boots padded across the room under the drape of the dancing shadows, cast by the dying hearthfire. A polished blade, coated with a thin layer of malignant oil glinted in the moonlight. The lethal intent wasn’t betrayed by the trecherous flash but the soft cold breeze, slipping into the room through the left open door.

Soren wasn’t sure what woke him up but didn’t have much time to actally think about it anyway. The second, he opened his eyes, he instinctively blasted a bolt of fire in front of himself. But not fast enough as he realized, but it took a moment until he felt the cut, that the razor sharp blade left on his shoulder. His attacker stumbled backwards, coughing and cursing quietly, trying to get rid of the singed cloth that covered his face. From the corner of his eye, Soren saw an other shadow move towards him from the right, so he raised his hand to sprang up a barrier around himself. Well, he tried to but nothing happend. There was no response to his pull on the veil. The magic just wasn’t there. Or rather it was but it didn’t bend to his will. In a fragment of a breath, Soren went from dumbfounded disbelief to deep seated dread as the a second attacker was lounging at him, dagger flashing with a promise of death. It sank in an instant: he had no real means to defend himself. He knew how to hold himself in a fight without his magic but he still was a scrappy fighter standing against too opponents, whom could very well be trained professionals. His chances were very slim. He instinctively stepped sideways, grabbed the candleholder from the small table, and with a wide splatter of still warm candlewax he swinged after the figure. His hit found home, and the assassin stumbled forward, spun around and leveled their gaze to study the lanky elf with his makeshift weapon of choice. The other one seemed to find his wits again and standing by the foot of the bed, readied himself to spring forward. This gave half a moment for Soren to size up his attackers. Both of them were dressed in dark, soft leather. Their faces were covered with a piece of dark cloth. The one he just hit in the shoulder seemed much more slender than the other one. The soft curve of her hips betrayed her clothes’ clever cut that intended to hide the feminin figure. The other, with the now sooth covered face was similarly built as the commander of the Inquisition’s forces only almost a full head taller than him. _How the fuck did they get in?_

There wasn't really that much time to ponder over the how. He swung the candleholder into the face of the one he assumed to be a woman and tried to get hold of her blade. He surprised her well enough to actually get her weapon but the man was already lounging at him with full force. Soren took a gamble. He stayed in the assassin’s path, tried to grab him and tip him off balance enough to get both of them hurtling over the sofa and the handrail, into the stairs leading down from his quarters. He got lucky. He usually never got lucky but he didn’t have time to reminice about this fact either. He heard a distubingly wet crack as the sooth faced assassin landed on his head, not knowing, there was a staircase behind the sofa and not and empty space to be able to flip and land safely. His price to pay for not scouting their target properly beforhand. This move cost Soren a light stab, stopped by his collarbone and a deeper cut as the blade skidded upward. Also some nasty bruises as he rolled off the man, who’s lifeless body was slowly slipping after him on the red carpet of his own dribbling blood.

Soren rolled down the steps and slammed into the solid wooden door. He was still clutching the dagger he snatched from the other assassin. Something warm was trickling down onto his hand. Maybe it wasn’t just the surprise of the flip that was lucky, but the involuntary stab he didn’t realized doing? It didn’t really mattered. He tried his best to scramble up and get the door open. He looked up behind him, to see the woman leaping over the handrail. She was terrifying and dangerously beautiful in that moment. Mid leap, in the air, descending down like a bird of prey, ready for the killing strike. If he wouldn’t be so sure of his inevitable doom at the moment, Soren would most definitely appretiate how astonishingly sensational sight she was. He probably still did, but only for a split second, before her fist met his defensively raised arm. He tried to wrestle her away, somehow managing to kick her in the gut and get through the door and slam it into her face, as she moved towards him again. She staggered backwards, and while Soren tried to stumble down the next set of stairs as fast as he was able to, she grabbed his late partner’s orphaned dagger.

 _If he could only reach the main hall there would be help._ The desperate thought kept Soren moving, but he already felt fatigue creep in as a soft blur caressed at the edges of his vision. The blade was probably not only coated with a something to prevent him from using magic but an actual poison as well. _Just wonderful._

He was almost at the door to getting help when he heard the assassin catching up to him. He spun around just to catch her blade deep into his abdomen. At least this gave him the opportunity to plunge the one he still clenched in his hand, into it’s original owners body. She was so close, he could see, even in the dim darkness, her stratlingly light, hazel eyes widening for a moment. But then a calm satisfaction took it’s place. Her mission was over. She reached her target and her poisoned blade was buried into the Inquisitor’s body. She was successful and that is what mattered, and only that.

The woman’s body unceremoniusly slumped to the floor at his feet and Soren only stayed up standing because his back was to the door. He weakly felt for the doorhandle, and with all his remaining strength pushed down. He stumbled out into the dark and empty main hall. It was the dead of the night, but it was still weird that no one was there. Not even the guards in front of the door he just came through. He didn’t had the strenght to ponder over that fact. He took a few unsteady steps, and caught himself from falling at the back of the large chair, which was ominously watching over the rest of the hall. Soren felt himself falling and then his face reaching the ice cold stone floor. _Why is it has to be so cold?_ He didn’t have any strenght to move or call out for help. He only could concentrate on breathing. His vision blurred and just before everyhing went dark, he was sure he heard the familiar cling of plate on chainmail armour.

A thin streak of blood trickling from behind the trone, geathering in a small pool at the foot of it, was the only indicator for that something disturbed the slow calmness of the night past.

**Author's Note:**

> So thank you so much for reading it! I'm not sure if there is ever going to be anything to follow but we will see.  
> P.s.: yes, he survives.  
> Find me or my Inquisitor (Soren Levynn Lavellan) on Tumblr [@skyholdlibrary](https://skyholdlibrary.tumblr.com/)


End file.
